The King Fell and then Came the End
by StrangelyPenned
Summary: Mordred struck the killing blow. Arthur lay, abandoned. Merlin cries, alone. (Written before 5x13)


**Sorry for the angst, but I couldn't help it - I guess this is a finale fic. *sob***

* * *

There is a pain like fire in his side, something burning hot, as he collapses to his knees, hands on his injury, eyes wide in shock. His eyes travel upwards to meet Mordred's narrowed, angry slits, wondering why.

_Traitor_, is the word that rings in his mind. But he knows somehow that this is a little bit his fault.

He sags a little more and then collapses, falling awkwardly, half with his face in the ground, clamping his lips together to stop a whimper escaping. He cannot look weak. He will not look weak.

He feels something wet soaking his mail and knows instantly that he is dying. It is shocking.

He always did hope for an honourable death. He never thought it would come at the hands of Mordred, of one he took in and cared for, a friend.

There is a thump and he is turned over, facing the sky. It looks horrific. Streaked with a blood-red colour, the bodies of the fallen in his peripheral vision. It is war. It is carnage.

"This is your own doing, Arthur Pendragon," speaks a voice.

Even through his pain, Arthur sees Mordred kneeling beside him, his face filled with anger and yet something a little like regret.

"M ..." Arthur begins to choke out, but Mordred makes a light _ssh_ sound and he hushes.

"You killed her. You killed them all." Mordred's brow is furrowed. "You always kill them."

Arthur tries very hard to say something to that, but what can he say? For it is the truth, loud and clear, and for the first time it hits him.

An entire people, slaughtered. Arthur thinks of raid and massacres and mindless executions.

_My fault_, he thinks, and then begins to panic so he cannot breathe.

Strangely, it is Mordred's calming touch on his arm that allows him to gulp in air again, to take a raggedy breath and clutch his side fruitlessly, hoping he will not pour out his life here in this forsaken place.

"One thing," says Mordred. "There was one with you, one that remained by your side through everything."

Inexplicably, Arthur's mind is drawn to Merlin. His smiles, his bravery, his wisdom.

His absence. His sudden disappearance at the peak of the war, just when Arthur felt as if he would fail, when Arthur needed him most. When Arthur felt all was lost and needed someone there for him, to tell him everything was going to be okay, to promise to be there to pick up the pieces.

Merlin's voice from countless other times fills his head. _Everything is going to be fine._

_It's not though, Merlin, is it_, Arthur thinks a little hysterically, mind flashing over Guinevere, his knights, his people. He wonders if they are alright, whether they will be able to survive the ruthless wrath of these two.

_You abandoned me_, are the words in his mind, are the words he is saying to the Merlin inside his head.

Because he had. Gone off, like he was prone too. Heard from no one.

Arthur dismisses the niggling worry of whether Merlin is even still alive as this is a war zone because of course he is. This is Merlin. Merlin always lives. Merlin is always there.

Except not this time, Arthur tells himself, and barely notices when Mordred leans close and mutters, "his name is Emrys".

All he can think of is Merlin. All he feels is alone.

And with that he slips away into the dark.

* * *

Merlin didn't even have time for words as he blasted Mordred backwards and dropped to his knees beside Arthur. His King was still, unmoving.

"No," he said, calmly.

Merlin put two fingers on Arthur's wrist and then his neck and then leant close. His chest wasn't moving.

"No," he said again.

Something wobbled in his voice that time so he gathered Arthur up, pulling his head onto his lap. He was still and cold as death. His eyes were closed. He could be sleeping.

"Come back," Merlin said, placing a hand on one side of Arthur's face. He felt a sting in his eyes. "Please, Arthur, come back."

"Merlin," Mordred's voice was saying quietly, but Merlin didn't want to hear it. "He's dead."

"No," Merlin repeated, but one hand slid onto Arthur's chest and he felt the stillness there and the dam broke, all feelings flooding out.

"No," he cried, because maybe if he denied it, it wouldn't be true. "God, no, Arthur please. Come back, please."

Arthur didn't move, even though Merlin was rocking and crying and tears were cascading down his cheeks.

"Arthur," Merlin begged, but the King did not respond.

_I will not be denied_, Merlin thought._ I am Emrys_.

And so his fingers curled in Arthur's armour and he cried to the heavens, the words _come back, please come back_, running an endless cycle in his head. He bent low, crouched over the still and _lifeless _body as if he was going to protect it from something, as if he could protect his friend from harm.

"What have I done," Merlin sobbed, the words escaping through his lips unheeded. "Oh, God, what have I done? What have I done?"

"Merlin." Mordred sounded a little bit alarmed behind him.

Merlin drew back, turned to face the traitorous knight. Mordred may have been shocked by what he saw on Merlin's face for he drew backwards a little.

"She's dead, Mordred," Merlin spat, expecting to feel a triumph come with the words. Nothing came. The chainmail was cool in his fingers and he felt nothing. "She's dying. She'll be dead, soon."

Mordred stared, his eyes wide, his mouth opening a little. His eyes flitted to the fallen King and then back again, swallowing.

"I was right not to trust you," Merlin said, his words choked. "I was ... right."

Then he turned back to his King and he didn't even care that Mordred was running away. All he could think about was _Arthur, Arthur, Arthur. _He _needed _Arthur to live.

He curled his fingers into Arthur's chainmail and squeezed his eyes shut and roared his pain out to the heavens. It hurt. God, it hurt. It was like a knife inside his heart, being twisted and spun and twisted again as if it were carving out his heart, as if it were tearing out everything that made him feel and everything that made him Merlin.

All he could feel was pain.

"No," Merlin sobbed.

There was a crack of thunder and the skies opened, rain beginning to pour with a savage ferocity. Merlin pulled his friend's body forwards, burying his into the cold shoulder. Dead shoulder.

"This is my fault, this is all my fault." And that was all he could say.

Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur and thought of the times they'd shared. He thought of the things they should have done, the destiny they should have won, the feats they should have accomplished. Lies.

They had all been lies, and Destiny was a cruel, cruel fate.

"Come back," Merlin whispered into the golden hair, as his salt water tears mingled with the rain from the sky. "Please, come back."

But the King was dead and not even Emrys had the power to bring him back. And the world might live on but Camelot would fall and Merlin ...

Merlin would be alone.

* * *

**Thoughts?**

**-SP**


End file.
